What You Dont Know
by Gemzn
Summary: Harry and Ginny pondering their feelings for eachother at two very different points in their lives. Ginny as an innocent 11 year old, and Harry as a love sick 16 year old. Harry/Ginny.


_Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, not me, no matter how much I want them to._

_A/N: This is my fourth published fanfic. Just a one shot that popped into my head based on the song 'What You Don't Know' by Monrose. Hoping to create some more fanfics NOT based on songs when I've finished my college project _

* * *

Ginny slammed the door closed and turned to lean on the door, breathing heavily. Harry Potter...the Harry Potter, was in her house! Granted that she had made a fool of herself at breakfast, stupid butter dish! Ginny stood with her back to the door for a moment and calmed her breathing down. She knew she would never live that down. Shaking her fiery red hair, Ginny forced herself to calm down. He was just Harry Potter. Harry Potter, beautiful green eyed Harry Potter. Ginny shook her head again and walked over to her bed, sitting down with a thump. Attempting to distract herself, she cast her eyes around her bedroom. Finding nothing of interest to get a certain bespectacled boy out of her head she lay down and stared up at the ceiling. Did he realise what affect he had on her? Did he know how she felt? Ron would probably have told him, she thought irritably. Stupid brothers. Ginny jumped up from her bed and walked over to her window.

It was a bright sunny day and the birds were singing. Ginny watched her mother magically pick some flowers from the yard and sighed distractedly. He really was attractive. Did he realise that? Probably not, living with those horrible muggles. Ron had told her all about them. Did he realise that even his scars were beautiful, the one on his forehead and the ones in his heart. The more Ginny thought about it, the more she realised that it was his imperfections that made her whole. She could feel herself spiralling down into that familiar place in her heart she visited late at night. She just wished she could talk when he was around. Ginny opened her window a little and felt a warm spring breeze rush over her face. Turning away from the window she sat down at her desk in front of her vanity mirror. Staring back at her was the reflection of a freckly 11 year old girl, with red messy hair and big brown eyes. Ginny picked up a hair brush and scrunchy and swept her hair up into a high ponytail.

It wasn't like her to hide behind a wall; she usually faced things head on like her brothers had taught her. Stupid Harry Potter. Ginny slammed her hairbrush down onto the desk. 'Careful dear, what did the hairbrush do to you?' Her mirror asked softly. Not in the mood to answer Ginny stood up once more. She just couldn't settle whilst he was in the house. She sat back down on her bed and lay looking up at the ceiling. He doesn't know, she thought, he doesn't know how she lay awake each night, wishing he were there, or how she had loved him, at least she thought this was love, long before they'd even been alive. The voice of doubt in the back of Ginny's head spoke up. _Don't be daft, I'm only 11 years old, I've hardly met the boy, it's just a crush, a silly crush, I can't be in love with him_. Ginny sighed, how would he know how she felt? How could he know? And so Ginny came to the conclusion that one day, a long way in the future, she would tell him everything, and he would finally know.

* * *

Harry sat in the common room in front of the fire with his potions essay in front of him, half finished. Although Professor Slughorn was much easier on the homework compared to Professor Snape, Harry still didn't have the effort to finish the rest of the essay. Harry picked up the Daily Prophet close by and attempted to distract himself form what was running through his head. If they had been there he would have talked to Ron and Hermione, but they were off doing some prefect jobs. The smell of flowers reached Harry's nostrils and his head snapped up. Ginny, having not noticed him, was walking through the common room toward the portrait whole.

Harry's eyes travelled down from Ginny's hair, over her back, and down to her hips. Harry ran his hand through his hair distractedly. He loved how they swayed when she walked. Ginny had no idea that Harry had studied the way she walked and Harry wasn't about to tell her anytime soon. The portrait door opened and Dean Thomas walked through the whole, smiling when he spotted Ginny. Harry watched as the couple met and embraced. The monster in his chest growled angrily. The pair leant down and shared a passionate kiss just beside the portrait whole. No one else but Harry seemed to have noticed. She doesn't know, Harry thought, that he'd kissed her so many times in the shadows of his heart. He resisted the urge to jump up and pull Dean off of Ginny, but he knew that would make the situation worse. Harry watched as Ginny pulled away and Dean whispered something in her ear. Ginny giggled seductively and Harry's heart skipped a beat. She was pure poetry, but Harry knew that even if Ginny turned around, she wouldn't see him. She hadn't seen him that way for years.

It wasn't like him to hide behind a wall. His life was about standing up and fighting, that was just who he was. But when Ginny was concerned...he was a coward. Ginny and Dean clasped each other's hand and proceeded to walk out of the portrait whole. Harry was still holding the Daily Prophet in his arms but had given up reading it as soon as he had smelt Ginny's flowery shampoo. Did she know how he felt? Of course not. She hadn't looked twice at Harry since her third year. Harry stared into the fire and was instantly reminded of Ginny's hair, and yet that comforted him. He knew he had to try. He had to get over it. She was Ron's sister, she had a boyfriend, and yet she insisted on invading his thoughts when he least expected it. _She was Ron's sister, she was off limits_, Harry told himself. But what if she felt the same? Harry wondered. It was doubtful, but if she used to have feelings for him, maybe they were still there? Buried in the darkest part of her heart. She doesn't know, he thought, she doesn't know how he lay awake each night, wishing she were there. Harry sighed, how would she know how he felt? How could she know? And so Harry came to the conclusion that one day, hopefully in the not too far future, he would tell her everything, and she would finally know.


End file.
